


Earshot

by seven2seventy



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, High School, M/M, Magic, Supernatural Elements, Superpowers, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29990685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seven2seventy/pseuds/seven2seventy
Summary: “So what, Pete’s reading minds now?” Patrick asked in disbelief.“I’m not reading minds, he said it!"“What am I thinking about?” Joe asked.“You think my eyeliner’s stupid?” Pete said. Because Joe had said it. But he hadn’t. Pete had heard it. But his lips hadn’t moved.Pete develops an unexplained and incredibly distressing case of telepathy. Mikey always has a song stuck in his head.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Earshot

**Author's Note:**

> i'm in a very committed relationship w high school aus so prob don't expect much else from me ever lol  
> also the name/vague inspo is from s3e18 of buffy

Someone was listening to Jellybelly over and over and over and it was starting to drive Pete a little crazy. Just the same song on loop, and Pete didn’t understand why no one was saying anything about it. It was so loud, but he seemed to be the only one bothered. Hell, maybe the only one who even noticed. Were the other students really so wrapped up in their algebra worksheets that the blaring rock couldn’t even penetrate their thick skulls? Just muttering away useless problems while some jackass was grating Pete’s last nerve.

He couldn’t place where it was coming from in the room. He felt it was behind him, but when he turned, no one looked even the slightest bit guilty. No one had a player out or anything. No one looked like they heard it.

When the line, “ _Welcome_ _to_ _nowhere_ _fast_ ,” came crashing in again-for the twentieth fucking time-Pete felt like ripping out his hair.

He glanced around the room. No one looked even this slightest bit disturbed. They just kept muttering on about their dumb equations that Pete could give less of a shit about. He just wanted to shut off the damn music and wring the neck of whatever asshole was subjecting him to such hell. A perfectly good song ruined.

As the second verse came on, it stuttered a little, “ _There’s_ _nothing_ _left_ _to_ _do_ , _there’s_ _not-there’s_ _nothing_ _left_ _to_ _feel_ ” The tape must have been worn or something. Like it wasn’t bad enough just hearing it over and over, now it was like the fucking music was forgetting its own words. Pete nearly screamed.

The kid behind Pete dropped his pencil and the music stopped.

“ _Shit_ ,” he whispered to himself, leaning down to pick it up. His voice was weird and echoey. And when he was all sorted, Pete heard the music unpause. Bingo.

“Are you playing music?” Pete asked, turning back to the kid. He was kind of goofy looking. It worked though, he was a good looking guy. Mousy brown hair pressed down against his head and glasses perched at the end of his nose. Mickey Way or something. Pete didn’t care.

“No,” he said. The music was paused again.

“You sure?”

Mickey tapped his ears, as if to say ‘no headphones’. Pete narrowed his eyes. The kid was fucking with him. Some plot to drive him nutty. He was on to him. Mickey shrugged.

“Really sure?”

“Dude, I’m not listening to music. Do you hear any music?”

“Yes,” Pete said. Obviously he heard fucking music.

Mickey gave him a look, “No one’s playing music dude.”

“Whatever,” Pete relented, turning back in his seat. The dick wasn’t gonna budge. He was just trying to fuck with Pete. Well, he wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction. He didn’t care. Play the same stupid song as long as you want, Pete Wentz wasn’t going to give an inch. No sir. He tried to just focus on the algebra worksheet. When Jellybelly started playing again, he gave up, pride be damned. He was going to hurt someone. He stomped off to the bathroom and wasted the rest of class there. Away from the goddamn music.

After the incident in math class, the day had only gotten worse. It was like the whole school had just collectively lost its mind. People would just yammer on and on. It was loud, and constant, and all starting to blend together. Everyone was talking all at once and no one was leaving any breaks for others. But no one else seemed to care. Pete almost thought maybe he was the one losing his mind. Usually, it would make more sense. The world wasn’t conspiring against Pete all the time. But that day it definitely was.

He was in the cafeteria, but it felt more like he had stuck his head in a microwave. There was just this insistent buzzing all around him, building up pressure in his head and making it all tight and hot. Even his friends seemed to be in on it. Patrick and Andy were talking over each other in a heated and directionless conversation about Star Wars and Joe was humming like he was being paid to. As the boys ate their lunches, Pete was starting to crack.

“Why’s everyone so loud today?” Pete groaned.

“They’re loud everyday,” Joe said through his mashed potatoes.

“It’s worse today. Giving me a killer headache,” Pete endured.

“Are ya hungover?”  
“Pete, please tell me you’re not hungover,” Patrick said, turning from his conversation with Andy and tugging on his hat anxiously.

“I’m not.”  
“It’s Wednesday, Pete, if you’re hungover-”

“I’m not hungover, calm down,” Pete said, “These kids are just like fucking howler monkeys or something.”

“It’s not too bad,” Andy said.

“So bitchy,” said Joe.

“I’m serious!” Pete said.

“And bitchy,” Joe said.

“ _He’s_ _hungover_ ,” Patrick said to himself.

“I’m not hungover!”

Patrick looked shocked Pete had heard him, raising his hands and countering, “I didn’t say you were.”

“You just did.” Pete was really getting worked up. Was everyone messing with him? And the microwave head feeling was getting worse.  
“Take a nap, dude,” Joe said.

“Maybe I fuckin will,” Pete said, storming off. 

Outside of the cafeteria was much quieter, which was a relief. He could still hear people though. He made his way around the school, hoping to find a place that was totally silent, but it was like every nook and cranny was filled with obnoxious students making as much noise as they could. Just drilling, drilling, drilling into his head with no breath. He walked past Mickey or whatever, tuning into the sound of Jellybelly once again. He really felt like he might have committed a crime just then. He held himself back, instead just drifting through a door out to the back of the school. There was little sound. Just wind rustling trees and the soft hum of cars somewhere out of view. No voices. It’d do.

He fell back against the wall and just let the near-quiet wash over him. He hoped that whatever was going on would pass, and he’d go back inside completely refreshed and everyone would have quieted down.

Pete’s optimism always proved naive. Everyone’s rapid onset of extreme vocalness did not disappear with a little rest outside. No, it got worse. That afternoon, Pete thought must have been the worst afternoon of his whole life. Of course, that was before Thursday afternoon, where he decided he couldn’t even walk near the cafeteria without ripping his ears out and ate alone behind the school instead. On Friday at lunch, his friends found him there.

“Why’re you eating out here?” Patrick asked.

“You missed Andy shoot pudding out his nose,” Joe said.

“ _Man,_ _that_ _hurt_ ,” Andy said to himself.

“It’s too fucking loud in the cafeteria,” Pete said. He had no idea how no one else got it. Had they all gone deaf? Was that why they were all so loud too? Could an entire school go deaf at once?

“Too loud?” Joe laughed. Sure, it was ironic. But not exactly funny when it felt like your head was constantly being attacked by a tiny sonic armata. 

“It’s like an airplane hanger,” Pete said.

“It’s like a high school cafeteria,” Patrick said.

“No, it’s like everyone’s been fucking yelling for days and somehow I’m the only one who’s noticed,” Pete said, irritated. His friends were loud too. Which made Pete feel even more weirded out. Joe was pretty mellow, Patrick was shy, and Andy was just very soft spoken. The three of them being so loud it turned Pete, of all people, off was concerning. He had won the senior superlative for ‘most talkative’ the previous year and he wasn’t even a senior. Everyone just voted for him.

“You’re the only one who’s been yelling,” Patrick told him.

“No dude,” Pete argued, “Everyone’s being crazy fucking loud, I feel like my heads being split open. I can’t even go near the cafe, I’ll explode or something.”

“ _What_ _goes_ _around_ _comes_ _around_ ,” Joe remarked.

“Shut up, Joe,” Pete said.

“What?” Joe asked innocently. Actually, there was genuine confusion in his voice.

“Don’t act like I’m getting my comeuppance,” Pete said.

“I didn’t say anything,” Joe said.

“What goes around comes around?”

Joe looked very startled.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did,” Pete pushed.  
“He didn't,'' Patrick agreed, and Andy gave a nod in confirmation.

“ _Is_ _he_ _losing_ _it_ _again_?” Andy asked himself quietly.

“He-he did, I swear,” Pete said. He hadn’t been imagining it. He had heard it. Clear as day. Well, a bit echoey, but he knew Joe had said it. He had said it.

“I didn’t,” Joe said, “...I thought it though.”

“So what, Pete’s reading minds now?” Patrick asked in disbelief. 

“I’m not reading minds, he said it!”

“What am I thinking about?” Joe asked.

“ _Hmm… what to think about. Uh… Oh, Pete, you’re eyeliner looks stupid_.”

“You think my eyeliner’s stupid?” Pete said. Because Joe had said it. But he hadn’t. Pete had heard it. But his lips hadn’t moved. 

“Exactamundo!”

“What the fuck?” Patrick breathed.

“Joe are you fucking with me-”

“What’s Patrick thinking?” Joe said.

“ _This is a dream. I’m dreaming. Pete can’t read minds. He can. not. read. minds_.”

“He thinks he’s dreaming,” Pete said, and a look of dread washed over Patrick’s face, “Or he’s having a nightmare. He doesn’t like having me in his head.”

“It’s invasive,” Patrick mumbled, pulling his hat tighter, like it’d keep Pete out.

“Yeah, it’s pretty invasive on my end too. I don’t love having your thoughts inviting themselves in here,” Pete said.

“Does it hurt?” Patrick asked.  
“Yeah, a little,” Pete admitted. Because it was like that microwave feeling. It was less intense then. Smaller scale. But by no means pleasant.

“Sorry,” Patrick squeaked. He was trying very hard not to think, Pete could tell. He just kept repeating the same note over and over stretched out long like a dial tone until he had to say something. 

“How is this possible?” Andy asked.

“I don’t know,” Pete said.

“Well, how’d it happen? Or when?” Joe asked.

“I don’t know,” Pete repeated, “A few days ago it was just like people got super loud all the sudden. Shit, that’s probably why Jellybelly was playing all math class. I bet that Mickey kid had it stuck in his head. That’s when it started.”

“ _Mickey_?” Patrick asked himself.

“Mickey Way?” Pete said out loud. He realized Patrick must have thought it when Joe and Andy gave him an odd look. It was all so hard to track.

“Mikey Way,” Patrick corrected.

“Okay, who gives a shit? The guy can read minds,” Joe said.

“I can’t read minds,” Pete said.

“What’s Andy thinking?” Joe asked.

“ _They gotta be high_.”

“He’s thinking we’re all high,” Pete said.

“Andy?” Joe looked to the other boy for confirmation. He reluctantly gave Joe a nod. “Three for three, Pete, you’re a mind reader!”

“What the fuck.”

“This is awesome, dude!” Joe cheered.

“ _This_ _can’t_ _be_ _happening_ ,” Patrick thought. 

“I wish it wasn’t,” Pete told him. It seemed to make Patrick even more uneasy. Kid had a problem with Pete hearing his internal dialogue, it seemed. Whatever, Pete didn’t even want to be hearing it.

“You can totally work this,” Joe continued, “You can get better grades. You can tell your parents exactly what they wanna hear. You’ll never get shit again! And, ooh, and, Pete, you can know exactly what every chick is thinking. Play your cards right and you can get so many girls to wanna sleep with you!”

“That seems kinda immoral, Joe,” Andy said.

“No, it’s awesome.”

“ _Yeah,_ But it’s wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Pete butted in, “I can barely even pick the thoughts apart. It’s not getting me laid. It’s really overwhelming.”

“Maybe you can train your brain to focus in on certain thoughts,” Joe said.

“Or maybe I can just go crazy and have to move to Greenland and never talk to people again,” Pete said.

“C’mon, try to be more positive here Petey,” Joe lulled. 

“I’m really failing to look at this as lucratively as you,” Pete said.

“You’ll come around.”

“I kinda just want it to disappear,” Pete admitted.

“ _What_ _a_ _dumbass_ ,” Joe thought, but he said nothing.

“ _This_ _is_ _hell_ ,” Patrick thought.

“Truly,” Pete agreed.

He shut himself in his room when he got home, ducking past his family watching TV in the living room. The noise was just too much. All day at school. And all the previous days. He just needed to be alone in his head. When his mother knocked on his door to tell him dinner was ready, he told her he had a migraine. Couldn’t come down. She bought it, because really he did look miserable. He spent the whole afternoon trying to ignore the chattering downstairs. At night, it got worse. He couldn’t sleep, but he heard the rest of his family. All a door or two down from him, all dreaming. Their thoughts were utterly incomprehensible. Just a big storm of words and sounds that made Pete’s ears feel like bleeding. 

The weekend carried on like that. He lay immobile and unable to sleep while his family just went about thinking. Joe called a few times. He wanted to know if Pete could hear thoughts through the phone-he couldn’t. That was nice at least, but with all the other thoughts screaming for attention around him, it was a shallow victory. Patrick and Andy kept their distance, either out of superior understanding of Pete’s pain to Joe, or a fear or Pete. The only solace that weekend was when his family went to church. Poor Pete was still feeling under the weather and got to stay in the nice silent home for a few hours all by himself. And then they came home and the attack on his head was back in full force as their voices ripped at his eardrums.

His mother made him go to school on Monday, despite his protests that he was still sick.

“ _I wish he would just try sometimes_.”

He had eventually hauled himself out of bed. He took a shower, because he knew he looked-and smelled-like shit. He wanted to at least feel decently put together. When he looked in the mirror, he thought maybe he had accomplished that. He looked okay. A little tired, but his hair was neat and his clothes matched. At least as much as they usually did. He didn’t look like a headcase who could hear other people’s thoughts.

When he got to school, his whole resolve unraveled. It was horrible. It was like everyone’s thoughts were pounding on his head, demanding to be let in. He couldn’t deal with them all. The microwave feeling was back in full force. It was just a big clusterfuck of unfiltered and imposing ideas and opinions from public high school students. What little he could make out always put him off. Thoughts about violence, insults hurled from one kid to another, vivid and disturbed daydreams about sex. Even by Pete’s own standards, his peers were messed up. 

Mostly though, it was just a mottled cloud of irregular beats and conflicting sounds. He wished he could make it all stop.

When he got to his math class and went to sit down, he made eye contact with the boy at the desk behind him. Mikey, Patrick had said. Looking up at him with a bored expression and hazel eyes. He had Just Like Heaven stuck in his head. It managed to slip between all the other sounds right to the front. It was the final straw it seemed. Pete ran out of the room and threw up on the hallway floor.

“Uh,” came a voice from behind him. Pete turned and saw Mikey, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” Pete nodded.

“ _He_ _puked._ _Gross_ _…_ You want me to walk you to the nurse? _Say_ _yes_ ,” Mikey offered.  
“I’m fine.”

“Say yes, man, I’m trying to cut class,” Mikey said. “ _Say_ _yes_.”

Pete frowned. He didn’t want to be around people. It was getting bad. He had puked. And that had specifically been because of Mikey. Mikey and his damn songs were a headache. But he really wanted Pete to say yes, and it drew sympathy from him a little. Mikey was also easy on the eyes. Maybe a little eyecandy would make up for some of the auditory torture. It wasn’t like one extra voice would make all that much of a difference among the tumult anyway.

“I guess.”

“Cool,” Mikey said it calmly. It wasn’t so calm in his head though.

They walked down the hall towards the nurse. Pete hadn’t actually planned to go to the nurse, just sit outside for a bit and hope maybe this time it would work and the voices would go away and his head would be his own again. But he figured if he told the nurse he threw up, he could at least go home.

They sat in the waiting room in silence for a bit. Pete tried to focus on the practically shredded faux leather of the seat and not the continued churning in his gut or the still-building pressure inside his skull. He hadn’t felt a moments rest from it since the whole ‘mind reader’ ordeal had started. Mikey wasn’t helping. There was a nervous web of thoughts pouring out of his head. Most of it wasn’t organized enough for Pete to pick out. Just a general worried garble. 

“ _Does_ _he_ _think_ _I’m_ _weird_ _for_ _following_ _him_ _out_?” Mikey asked at one point.

“Huh?” Pete replied, before he realized Mikey hadn’t said it out loud. The thoughts echoed like real words didn’t, Pete had learned. He still struggled to pick up on it.

“It was pretty weird when you ran out of class. That’s, uh, why I followed you out,” Mikey explained.

“Oh, okay,” Pete said. He was still feeling too queasy to really care why Mikey had followed him.

“ _Do I keep talking now_?”

“Please don’t talk,” Pete said.

“Uh,” Mikey stammered. Shit, he hadn’t said it out loud. Why would he have said it out loud? Who asked if they should keep talking out loud?

“Sorry. I have a pretty bad headache,” Pete said.

“Yeah. Okay,” Mikey nodded, “ _You’re annoying him. Shit. Idiot. He doesn’t like you. I shouldn’t have come. I wish I was back in class_.”

“Do you wanna go back? I can wait by myself,” Pete offered. He didn’t know what Mikey’s deal was, but his anxiety was not making Pete feel any better.

“No,” Mikey said.

They didn’t talk anymore, because Pete’s headache was getting worse. Just buzzing and buzzing, head stuck in the microwave. And Mikey needed to stop getting songs stuck in his head.

“ _I try to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies, I try to-_ ”

Mikey’s thoughts were pushed back suddenly as the bell rang. The surge of student’s coming up and down the halls brought forth a new wave of intolerable pain and pressure in Pete’s head and he couldn’t stay any longer. 

“Fuck, this is taking too long,” he muttered, “I’m just gonna leave.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mikey asked.

“Yeah. I’ve just gotta get outta here.”

“ _Ask to go with him. No, don’t do that. Or-no. Don’t_.”

“You wanna come?”

Pete really didn’t want to invite Mikey to join him. Because Mikey was annoying. That wasn’t entirely fair, it wasn’t his fault that his thoughts were like daggers in Pete’s head. But the kid was a nervous wreck, and a nuisance on the old cranium. Which also made Pete feel a little bad for him. For some hellish reason, that was the day his selfish wish for quiet was put on hold to make some weird shy kid who wanted to hang out with him feel better.

“Okay,” Mikey agreed. Pete could hear a mantra of “ _Oh god, oh god, oh god_ …”, equal parts nervous and excited sounding.

The two boys went out behind the school. Pete sat on the pavement and Mikey sat beside him. His head was still a neurotic rush that rubbed Pete all the wrong ways. Mikey fumbled around his pockets for a carton of cigarettes, pulling one out for himself before holding the box out to Pete. Pete took one. He didn’t really smoke, but he was a little desperate to take the edge off. His lungs could be fucked for all he cared if it placated the whirling of voices in his head.

As Mikey lit the ends of both cigarettes, he said, “Do you think you’re gonna throw up again?”

“Dunno,” Pete said, breathing in a pull of smoke. It stung, and it smelled awful. Like his grandpa. “You worried I’m gonna get you sick?”

“Not really,” Mikey shrugged nonchalantly. He looked totally at ease, voice even and face flat, it was interesting. If Pete couldn’t hear his every thought, he would have guessed the kid couldn’t have cared less.

After a little while, Pete found the cigarette actually did calm him down a bit. The sounds weren’t gone, just more manageable. Like, he could filter them out. They became more a part of the background. He could tell which sounds were real and which were thoughts better. The pressure wasn’t building. It made Mikey more likable too, now that he wasn’t assaulting Pete with his internal world. And he was a little grateful for the kid offering up the magic cigarette in the first place, even if Mikey hadn’t known it was the cure to Pete’s telepathic crisis.

“What kinda music d’ya like?” Pete asked at one point. He knew Mikey seemed to like The Smashing Pumpkins and The Cure, so he already figured he had good taste. It was kind of a cheat-icebreaker.

“I really love The Smashing Pumpkins. Some metal. And the Smiths. Britpop,” Mikey confirmed.

“They’re cool. You like any punk?”

“Mhm,” Mikey nodded, “My friend Frank is crazy about punk. He got me into, like, Misfits and Blackflag.”

“I think I know Frank. He’s the kid who always draws all over himself?” 

“Yeah. His mom won’t let him get tattoos.”

“You have any tattoos?” Pete asked.

“No?” Mikey said like it was obvious. Well, most sixteen year olds didn’t have tattoos.

“I got one. It’s sorta fucked up though,” Pete said.

“ _Shit, he has a tattoo…_ That’s cool.”

“I’m a cool guy.”

“Yeah. _That was stupid. ‘Yeah’. Why can’t I say anything cool_?”

“You’re pretty cool too, Mikeyway,” Pete said. He hadn’t actually thought much about Mikey at all. Only after that class he filled with Jellybelly. When he wasn’t imposing his thoughts on Pete, his music seemed much better. And Pete liked a guy with good music. And good bone structure. He had never noticed how sharp his jaw was either.

“ _He thinks I’m cool_?” Mikey pushed his glasses up his nose and said, “Thanks.”

“No problem. Thanks for the cigarette, man,” Pete replied, because really, it was a lifesaver. It was the most grounded he had felt in days. Microwave on pause. Mikey was a real angel in Pete’s mind.

After about 2 hours, the nicotine started to lose its effect, and by the end of the day, Pete was barely hanging on. His head was killing him and after hearing the things his science teacher thought about that day, the isolated life in Greenland was starting to look pretty good.

Joe had been rather unsympathetic to Pete’s condition. Andy, thankfully, had done his best to keep his thoughts to himself, which wasn’t exactly effective but a nice attempt. Patrick was a bit awkward around Pete. Pete couldn’t blame him. Patrick was a shy kid, and Pete was being a new level of nosy-one where he couldn’t help but read everyone of his friends’ innermost thoughts. Pete would be put off if someone knew what ran through his mind twenty four-seven, too.

“I just feel like I’m gonna think the worst possible thing,” Patrick had said.

“You smell like an ashtray,” Andy said.

“Mikey Way gave me a cigarette,” Pete explained.

“Pete, don’t smoke,” Patrick scolded.

“No, it helped. It made it less aggressive.”

After school, Pete locked himself in his bedroom again. The nicotine was pretty much dead in him and he could hear his parents’ thoughts all the way from where they were in the kitchen. It was undesirable, to say the least.

On Tuesday, Pete hunted down Mikey first thing in the morning. He found him hanging out under the stairs with Frank, who always drew all over himself, and Ray Toro from Patrick’s music class.

“Mikey!” Pete called, “Can I talk to you?”

Mikey looked up with a blank expression, but Pete could hear the anxiety bubbling up. He could also hear Frank and Ray’s stifled laughter.

“Sure, what’s up?” Mikey said.

“You got any more cigarettes? I have money.” Pete had been itching for more ever since the last one. They really were addictive. Amplified to hell by Pete’s constant headaches.

“Uh, yeah,” Mikey said, and he fished out a crumpled pack from the back pocket of his jeans, “How many d’ya want?”

“However much this is worth,” Pete said, holding out a twenty.

“That’s like, four times what I have,” Mikey said.

“It’s fine, I’ll take whatever,” Pete pushed.

Mikey shrugged and handed him the whole carton, trading it for Pete’s money.

“I have smokes too,” Frank piped up.

“ _They’re in the middle of the hall. Idiots are gonna get caught_ ,” Ray thought.

“I don’t have any more money,” Pete said.

“Well next time ask me, not this joker,” Frank said, “I’ll get you your money’s worth.”

“ _Don’t ask Frank_ ,” Mikey thought.

“Sorry Frank, I think I’m a loyal customer of Mikey’s now,” Pete joked, and he could hear Mikey’s anxious thoughts spike, though they sounded to edge on delighted. A lot of thoughts, Pete found, were abstract. They all blurred together, and the ones that stood out rarely made sense anymore. The longer it all went on, the less anything he heard really meant. Just a big mess of internals with fewer and fewer coherent words making it through the din of noise.

“ _It’s nothing. Just a pack of cigarettes, is all. It’s nothing_ ,” Mikey was telling himself.

“ _Wow, Mikey’s really in for it_ ,” Frank thought. 

“Well, uh, thanks for the cigarettes, Mikey,” Pete said, “See ya.”

With that, he turned and walked away to go smoke behind the school. He figured if he had one in the morning and one at lunch, he could make it through the day. He really needed it, the hallway was packed with students who, despite outward appearances, had a lot of fucking things going through their heads and it was terrible to listen to. After nearly a week of Pete’s weird mind reading, he had come nowhere close to getting used to the invasion on his head.

At lunch, after his smoke break, he actually felt good enough to go into the cafeteria, to the surprise of his friends. The student body's thoughts were all just whitenoise to him.

“You’re looking better,” Patrick remarked.

“Got more cigarettes from Mikey,” Pete said, sitting beside his friend at their lunch table. Patrick had a plate of spaghetti in front of him that looked nearly inedible.

“You really shouldn’t start smoking, Pete,” Patrick said.

“It helps.”

“ _Poor guy_ ,” Andy thought, and when he realized Pete had heard, he threw in a quick “ _Sorry_.”

“Do you think weed might help?” Joe asked.

“What if it gave him psychosis?” Andy asked, “That’d be worse.”

“CBD,” Joe said.

“It is better than cigarettes,” Patrick agreed.

“Yeah, I can get you pot if you want,” Joe said to Pete.

“Thanks, man,” Pete said, “I seriously just need people out of my head.”

“It must be really weird. You know everyone’s business,” Andy said.

“It sounds terrible,” Patrick said.

“I still think it sounds awesome,” Joe said.

“It isn’t awesome. It sucks. And most of the thoughts get jumbled together anyway, or they’re, like, super abstract and don’t make sense,” Pete complained.

“So what’s the point?” Joe asked.

“There is no fucking point. I’m being tortured,” Pete said.

“Shouldn’t we try to figure out what caused it?” Andy asked.

“Some evil god that wants Pete snooping on all our private thoughts?” Patrick suggested.

“I told you,” Pete said, “I can barely even tell what anyone’s thinking. No snooping. I think Mikey Way has a thing for me though.”

“ _Mikey’s gay_?” Patrick asked himself.

“So you are using your powers for evil! Peeping on Mikey’s thoughts. I’m proud of you,” Joe cheered.

“I’m not peeping, I can’t help it,” Pete argued.

“Do you have a thing for Mikey?” Patrick asked.

“...He’s definitely hot,” Pete said. He hadn’t thought about dating Mikey or anything. But he didn’t hurt to look at. And when he didn’t feel like his skull was being forced open by a million little hornets he was kinda cool. He was weird. But Pete could be into weird. Especially when it had a face like that.

“He’s blushing,” Joe said.

“I’m not blushing.”

“Our little Pete found love,” Joe continued jovially. Pete flipped him off. 

A few days passed and with the right mix of weed and nicotine, Pete was actually able to bear the weight of a school’s worth of thoughts. As long as he was smoking, it wasn’t so bad. And at times, he heard things that were of genuine interest to him. Especially with Mikey. 

He had taken to talking to Mikey more often (as opposed to the previous ‘never’), and while he would never admit to Joe that he was using his powers to maybe get a few steps ahead of the other boy, he found telepathy to be very useful. Smoking dulled the noise, but it didn’t make it go away completely. If he focused on it, he could tune in to Mikey’s head. The guy was a master of keeping a cold face, but that didn’t hinder Pete. When he talked to Mikey and he really couldn’t piece together what the guy was doing, he could just take a peak in his head and find out. Maybe it was a little nosy, but he figured if everyone got to just waltz into his brain and make themselves at home, he deserved a little taste in return. And he liked Mikey’s brain. He was intrigued by the stark contrast between Mikey’s lukewarm exterior and the overly active nerves under the surface. He was always freaked by Pete. But he was funny, in a very dry way, and he really seemed to like Pete. He was also, as mentioned many times, very good looking to Pete.

What Pete learned from his time talking with Mikey, and his time in his head, was that Mikey definitely had a thing for him. Pete’d never have known normally. Mikey was totally cool on the outside. Like he didn’t give a damn if Pete looked at him one way or another. But Pete could hear every amoristic comment and sweet remark the kid made to himself. It was flattering, really. And absolutely welcome. He didn’t know why Mikey was so shy about it. When Pete had crushes, he usually let it all hang out. It was never a secret, why should it be? A crush was just feelings you had. Mikey kept a lot inside. Which was why Pete didn’t make a move. It felt unfair, the advantage he had. He shouldn’t know so much about Mikey. And he liked being the object of such affection anyway. He was willing to play it Mikey’s way. Even if the other boy was painfully slow.

When Pete could dull the ache in his head, telepathy almost seemed like a gift. Like maybe Joe was right. Getting to know Mikey wasn’t an easy task when the boy hardly let him in. But he liked peeling back the layers of apathy and seeing Mikey’s most vulnerable insights. And maybe Joe was right that he was using his powers for evil too. He tried to block out most of Mikey’s thoughts, but sometimes he heard them and he just couldn’t help but listen. Totally ordinary thoughts, but in Mikey’s voice they captivated Pete.

“ _God, he has such a nice smile_.”

“ _Am I wearing Gerard’s shirt today? Did Gerard wash this shirt_?”

“ _I think I remembered to take out the trash… I hope my mom doesn’t freak_.”

“ _Pete’s being so cute right now. Shit, gross. Don’t be mushy, Mikey_.”

“ _Ask him! Ask him!_ ”

Mikey never asked him whatever it was he had meant to.

He also had songs stuck in his head quite often. It was like tuning in to a radio station every day with internal dialogue as the host. As long as Pete managed himself properly, he could tolerate it.

Friday afternoon, Pete had been making his way to the parking lot to head home a few minutes before school officially ended. He liked to leave early and avoid the bulk of people. As he went, nearly at the front doors, Mikey stopped him. It was bold for Mikey, usually he just waited for Pete to come to him. Whenever Pete heard, “ _Just talk to him, Mikey, c’mon_ ,” he made sure to start the conversation. But it seemed Mikey was finally listening to the voice.

“Hey Pete,” he said.

“Hey, Mikeyway, what’s goin on?” Pete asked. He hoped Mikey wouldn’t hold him too long and he’d get caught in the flood of kids and their stupid thoughts.

“ _Ask him! Ask him!_ ”

Pete could more or less put together what was about to go down. He would have been excited if it weren’t for the unease he felt in his stomach as minutes ticked away til the bell rang.

“Well, uh, I was gonna just ask if you wanted to, like, hang out. This weekend maybe. Or, whatever. Yeah. _Say yes_ ,” Mikey stated eloquently.

“You asking me on a date Mikeyway?” Pete said coyly. He knew what he was asking him. He could read his mind. But the rosy blush that colored Mikey’s cheek when he said it was worth a stupid question. “I’m there.”

“Oh. Oh! Great! _Holy shit, he said yes! He said date!_ ” Mikey said.

“Great,” Pete agreed.

Mikey pulled his backpack down his shoulder and towards his front, pulling a pen from an unzipped pocket. “Here,” he said as he grabbed Pete’s wrist and pressed the pen down on his skin, “It’s my address. Come over whenever, I guess. I don’t care.” He absolutely did care.

Pete looked down at the semi-readable scribbles of ink, and said, “I’ll see ya. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Mikey agreed.

Pete got out before the bell rang, thank the lord.

Saturday, Pete spent a good three hours obsessively grooming. He took an extra long shower, brushed his teeth for seven minutes, flat ironed his hair, and spent twenty one minutes getting each strand to stick up just right. He put on heavy eyeliner, before deciding to wash it off, and then putting it back on again. He went through about seven outfits, before giving up and just wearing a hoodie and jeans. Mikey wouldn’t care. He liked Pete, fashion didn’t matter. 

For breakfast, he ate a pot brownie Joe had made him. Joe had taken the liberty of acting as Pete’s dealer in exchange for his ‘services’. Really he just asked Pete what different girls around school were thinking of (it was never Joe). Still, he was grateful. It made things more bearable, and he liked weed a hell of a lot better than cigarettes. It tasted better, it smelled better, and Patrick and Andy didn’t give him as many disapproving looks.

“I’m going out, Ma!” he called, before he left for Mikey’s. 

It wasn’t far from Pete’s place. Kinda near Gabe Saporta’s old house. Pete had gone over there a few times back in middle school, but his mother didn’t like it when he did. He wasn’t sure if it was because it was a sorta rough neighborhood or because she didn’t like Gabe. He wouldn’t told her where Mikey lived, just in case it was the former. He figured she could stand to not know where he was for a day. It wasn’t like Mikey would kill him. Although, he had heard stories about the Way brothers. Gruesome and bloody rumors. If Mikey’s thoughts were anything to go off, they weren’t true. Sometimes people said they were vampires, which Pete had always chalked up to hyperbole, but he was a lot more willing to accept the supernatural since the development of his own supernatural powers. Maybe Mikey was a vampire.

When he knocked on the front door, it was opened by Frank, who always drew all over himself.

“Pete! Hey,” he greeted.

“Uh, hi?” Pete said. He hadn’t been expecting Frank to be there.

“You’re here for Mikey?” Frank asked.

Pete nodded.

“Mikey!” Frank shouted into the house, “He’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay. Uhm, are you-will you be joining us?” Pete asked as politely as he could. He really hoped Frank wasn’t joining them, because as far as he was concerned, he and Mikey were going on a date. That would be majorly uncomfortable if they also had to babysit Frank.

Frank giggled, “No. I’m here for his brother, Mikey’d kill me if I crashed his date.”

“He called it a date?” Pete said with a grin. He knew what it was, of course. He liked that Mikey called it that, though.

“ _Aw fuck, was I not supposed to say that_? Uh,” said Frank.

Another boy-not Mikey- pushed through the door. He was taller than Pete and Frank by a good couple inches, and had greasy black hair. Pete was pretty sure he was some art kid who had graduated the year before. 

“You’re Pete?” he said, “ _He’s so little. Mikey could step on him. Hell, so could I_.”

“I’m Pete,” Pete confirmed, holding out his hand. 

The other boy didn’t take it, saying, “Gerard. Mikey’s brother. Don’t hurt him.”

Pete figured that cold air must run in the family. Pete could kinda tell it was false on Gerard’s part. He was trying very hard to be intimidating and unfriendly. His head was riddled with thoughts of “ _No way he’s buying this_ ” and “ _don’t smile, don’t smile, don’t smile_ ”.

“Gerard’s grumpy,” Frank said, “I sat on one of his paintings and ruined it a little. Ignore him. Have fun on your date! Don’t think about how if you fuck up, me and Gee can make sure they never find your body!”

“Huh. No pressure,” Pete stated.

“Absolutely none!” Frank agreed.

Finally, Mikey appeared in the doorway, brushing passed his brother and his friend to stand in front of Pete. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Pete said back, and he could feel excitement building. It might have been feedback from Mikey though.

“ _He’s here, he came. He looks good_ ,” Mikey thought.

“We were just warmin him up for ya, Mikey,” Frank said.

“ _Fuck, I hope they didn’t weird him out_. Okay, well, uh, you guys can go now,” Mikey said gesturing for the other two to leave.  
Gerard remained planted where he stood and said, “Why don’t we stay a while, just-”

“No. Nope. Leave.”

Frank tugged Gerard back inside, and shut the door, leaving Pete and Mikey alone at last on the front steps.

“Sorry if they were weird,” Mikey mumbled, kicking the ground a little.

“It’s all cool, Mikeyway,” Pete assured him. The way Pete’s life was going, weird would have been if Gerard started thinking sexually about feet or something. He could handle faux abrasiveness.

“So, you wanna, uh… _Is this stupid?_ get going?” Mikey asked.

“Absolutely,” Pete said.

Mikey nodded, hitching up his bag, and leading Pete down the street. As they walked, Pete listened to Mikey’s worried rambling. He was worried he’d make an idiot of himself, Pete would leave, he wouldn’t like him. Pete was pretty sure if he could handle Mikey’s music box head for as long as he had, an awkward date probably wouldn’t scare him off. But Mikey didn’t know that.

“Where’re we going?” Pete asked as they turned off the street and into the woods.

“Uhm. I walk out here sometimes, it’s really pretty this time of year. I thought we could eat lunch or whatever,” Mikey explained.

“Is that what’s in the bag?” Pete asked and Mikey nodded, “Mikeyway! You made us a picnic?”

“ _He thinks it’s stupid, he hates it_.”

“That’s adorable.”

“ _Oh_. Thanks,” Mikey smiled shyly.

From there, Mikey’s thoughts slowed. As they walked through the woods, they mostly turned to focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other, no tripping. At some point, the music came back.

“ _Well, I run right down n’ bought a ticket to this bear mountain picnic_.”

They stopped at a pond. Mikey was right, it was really pretty. Like something out of a fairytale. Deep green water surrounded by heavy brush. Flowers peeking out every now and then like little string lights. Moss trailed rocks and damp bark, and sunshine filtered down through tree tops. Soft wind and animal calls were all to be heard, no people near enough for the thoughts to penetrate Pete’s sedated brain, bar the hum of Mikey’s own. And it all smelled like rain.

“This is awesome,” Pete said to Mikey. Mikey’s head was full of cheering and pride.

“Thought it’d be nice,” he shrugged.

“It is,” Pete affirmed, “So, what’d ya pack for us?”

Mikey took off the backpack, setting it on the woods floor and unzipping it. There was a wool blanket, which he laid out, and the tupperwares of food.

“I'm not a very good cook,” Mikey said, “and I don't really know what you like. I just made us peanut butter and jellies.”

“Love PB&Js,” Pete said.

“Frank made us cookies too,” Mikey pointed to the third, smallest tupperware.

“Thoughtful of him.”

“He's very excited that I'm, like, putting myself out there or something,” Mikey said.

“Hey, so am I,” Pete told him.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Mikey thought.

“Well, ya wanna get started?”

It was a nice meal. As nice a meal as two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches could be. Frank's cookies were loaded with sugar, so exactly Pete's taste. And sitting by the pondside with Mikey was totally awesome. He was all shy, and his head was making all kinds of happy noises. Like listening to the inner workings of a puppy or something cute like that. 

Watching light reflect off the water while Mikey talked about his favorite superheroes and his head buzzed was all very pleasant and Pete was having a lovely time.

Until, of course, he wasn't. He wasn't sure how long they had been out there, but it was apparently long enough for the sun to start setting and the edible to wear off. The microwave buzz came roaring back into his head with the force of a thousand angry wasps. Even with only Mikey's thoughts to listen to, it became invasive and overwhelming. Without the inhibitor in his system, they became crowding, pushing on his skull, demanding entry in his head.

He felt sick, and clammy, and dizzy. His head pounded and he instinctively shut his eyes. He was curling up into himself, clutching his ears and he could feel his nails digging into the skin till it seared but he couldn’t stop. To make matters worse, he could hear Mikey’s panic. Like pots and pans banging together and sirens wailing over a line of “ _oh fuck, oh fuck, what’s wrong_?”

“Pete, are you okay?- _is he dying?_ -what’s going on, Pete are you- _what do I do? Is he dying?_ -okay? Should I do- _fuck, fuck, fuck_ -something? - _fuck, oh god_ -Talk to me- _he’s dying_ -Should I- _I can’t handle this, what is this?_ -call someone?- _I can’t help. He needs help. Oh god, what’s wrong?_ -Your mom? Pete, please,- _is he dying?_ -look at me?- _what do I do, c’mon Mikey, think!_ -Can you- _shit, shit, shit_ -speak? What’s wrong?”

Pete hardly understood a word he said, it was too garbled between abstract panic and strings of wordy thought. As Mikey got more and more scared, Pete’s pain got worse. It was so close and so loud around his head.

“Stop!” Pete shouted, “Please stop!”

Mikey stilled, mouth snapping shut but his brain stirred all the same.

“You gotta-Mikey calm down please,” Pete breathed out. If Mikey just calmed down, it’d be okay. Pete was startled by the come down, but he could handle it if Mikey just calmed down.

“ _What's happening_?” Mikey asked himself meekly.

“Calm down,” he repeated. 

Mikey did, somewhat. It wasn't great, he was still panicked, but the urgency was more or less depleted. It was enough for Pete to relax his body, pull his nails from his skin and pull his cigarettes from his hoodie pocket.

He put one to his lips and lit it with a lighter he had pawned off Joe as Mikey said, “Pete, what just happened?”

Pete inhaled. “Hold on.”

He waited a minute, Mikey sat beside him at the pondside as he breathed in pull after pull of smoke until the ache had completely retreated back into the edges of his head.

“Okay. I’m okay now,” he said.

“What was going on?” Mikey asked worriedly.

“It’s just something that happens sometimes,” Pete explained, “Smoking helps.”

“Why?”

“Uh,” Pete said. He didn't know how to explain to Mikey why he randomly got splitting headaches if he didn't smoke without sounding crazy and scaring him off. Any excuse he could make sounded weird and the truth? The truth was weirder. 

“Pete, c’mon. What’s wrong?” Mikey pressed.

In that moment, maybe because Pete really was crazy, or because he just wanted to be honest with the other guy, he said, “I can read minds.”

“What?” Mikey deadpanned.

“I can read minds. And it isn't cool, okay? It fucking sucks. It’s like sticking my head in a microwave and I can't pick anything out of the clusterfuck of thoughts. It’s fucking painful.”

“You can read thoughts,” Mikey repeated, “ _Why won’t he tell me what's wrong_?”

“I'm not making this up Mikey,” Pete said.

“You actually think you can read people's minds?”

“You don't believe me,” he stated.

“Can you tell that with your powers of telepathy?”

“No, I can tell because it sounds like total bullshit.”

Mikey nodded in agreement, but said, “What am I thinking right now? _Uh, hey Pete. If you can actually hear me. That's kinda cool. So, uh, I'm thinking about ducks. Sure_.”

“Ducks.”

“Oh my god. You can read minds,” Mikey gaped.

“Yeah. And I told you, it's not cool. It sucks,” Pete said.

“Sorry,” Mikey said, “Do my thoughts hurt you?”

“Not right now. But yes. That day you had Jellybelly stuck in your head I wanted to throttle you.”

“Smoking helps?”

Pete nodded.

“Why? And why can you read thoughts? Do you know?” Mikey asked.

“Not a clue. It all just happened one day,” Pete said, “But when I smoke, it just makes it easier to manage. All the thoughts are still there, but it's like, I can regulate them better.”

“So, you've been reading my thoughts this whole time?” Mikey asked, blush rising on his cheeks.

“Kinda,” Pete said.

“Oh god,” Mikey groaned.

“Hey, don't worry Mikeyway, it was cute. Mostly. The Jellybelly thing made me a little violent,” Pete said.

“I think so much embarrassing shit, Pete, you don't understand,” Mikey said.

“Pretty sure I do,” Pete said, “I hear a lot of it.”

“And you still talk to me?”

“I told you, it's cute.”

“You're seriously crazy, dude,” Mikey chuckled.

“But hot?” Pete asked.

“Yeah,” Mikey nodded.

“Thanks. You’re hot too, Mikeyway.”

Mikey smiled a bit, then said, “Man, this is just so weird.”

“So weird,” Pete echoed.

They had spent a while longer sitting together by the pond, until it got dark enough where they decided they would have to head back. Mikey packed up their things and led Pete to his house again, then said goodbye.

At the door, he leaned in and gave Pete a quick kiss before rushing in. Pete could hear his nervous thoughts from outside.

On Monday morning, Pete was feeling especially chipper. He had had a few of Joe’s edibles and was still riding the high he had got after his date with Mikey. And the (brief) kiss. He couldn’t have cared less about his classmates and their damned thoughts.

He and his friends were sat around a table in an empty room before class, finishing up last minute homework. None of them but Patrick had managed to do any.

“ _Why so happy, Pete_?”

“Joe, don’t try to talk to me with your thoughts,” Pete said.

“You’re so lame,” Joe whined.

“I’m so not.”

“Why are you so happy?” Andy asked as he flipped through pages of his math homework, “ _If ‘x’ equals thirty six and ‘y’ is_...”

“I kissed Mikey,” Pete boasted, “Or, he kissed me. But it was still awesome. We went on a date. I think I really like him.”

“Congrats, man,” Patrick said, patting his friend on the back.

“Yeah, and he was totally cool about the whole telepathy thing,” Pete said.

“You told him?” Joe asked.

“Mhm. And he still kissed me!”

“And you still think it’s a curse,” Joe said.

“Well he didn’t kiss him because of the telepathy,” Patrick countered.

Joe shrugged and moved on to copying Andy’s answers onto his own sheet. Pete leaned back in his seat and let his mind wander off to Mikey and his music box head, and his sharp jaw, and his lips…

When Pete approached Mikey and his friends under the stairwell, he felt a little giddy. It was the first time he would have seen Mikey since Saturday, and he and Mikey were, like, a thing. Exactly what, they hadn’t discussed, but they were something. It was exciting. Pete had never had a thing with a guy. And that guy being Mikey? Awesome.

“Hey Mikeyway!” He greeted.

“Hi,” Mikey said back happily. He had Inbetween Days stuck in his head.

“ _Hi Pete_ ,” Frank said. Not out loud. Pete was high, he knew it was a thought. A weird thought. He gave Frank a puzzled look. “ _Hi Pete! Can you hear me? Am I being loud enough_?”

“Uh, hey Frank,” Pete said and Frank broke into a big grin.

“Mikey, I think it worked!”

“ _No way_ ,” Ray thought.

“You told them?” Pete asked Mikey.

“Yeah,” Mikey said, “Was I not supposed to? Shit, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Pete said. It didn’t really matter to him. It wasn’t a secret. He just would rather not have people thinking he was delusional. But Frank believed he could read minds apparently.

“You can actually read minds?” Ray asked.  
“Yep,” said Pete.

“ _Freaky_.”

“Seriously, I’m sorry I told them,” Mikey said, “It was just, like-it’s kinda awesome. Or, not for you, but like, you kinda have superpowers. I just blabbed.”

“He totally does have superpowers,” Frank interjected.

“It’s cool, Mikey. Just promise not to tell any government agents or mad scientists,” Pete said.

“I promise. And uh, I also told Gerard,” Mikey said.

“He doesn’t think I’m a perv, does he? Peeping on his little brother’s mind?”

“ _What kinda things would you see in Mikey’s mind_?” Ray wondered.

“No, he actually thinks it’s pretty cool,” Mikey said, “And he thinks he might be able to help with your whole ‘microwave’ thing.”

“He does?” Pete asked.

“Yeah, he’s super into that paranormal shit. You can come over after school if you want and talk to him,” Mikey offered. Mikey really was an angel. Just like Pete had thought. He brought all the answers.

“Fuck yeah! You have no idea how much I want my head back,” Pete said.

“He’s picking me up, so meet me in the parking lot?”  
“Absolutely,” Pete grinned, standing on his tippy toes to kiss Mikey, “You’re a lifesaver.”

Gerard was, apparently, a massive geek. When he picked up Pete and Mikey, he was rambling the whole time about mystical powers and the supernatural, from comic books to folklore. He really found Pete interesting, grilling Pete on all there was to know about his onset of telepathy. Not that there was much to know. It had happened, it sucked, and hopefully, Gerard could make it un-happen.

“From what I understand,” Gerard said, kicking off his shoes as they stepped into the house, “You have pretty basic thought detection. It seems powerful, but pretty impossible to use.”

“Sure,” Pete said. 

“Why does he have it?” Mikey asked.

“Honestly? Probably just dumb luck,” Gerard shrugged, “It happens. Follow me.”

Pete and Mikey followed Gerard down the hall to his bedroom, where Gerard pulled out a jar of deep, dark red liquid.

“There’s a magic shop a few towns over, they gave me some ingredients that they said would take care of this,” Gerard said, handing Pete the jar.

Pete sniffed it. It smelled of metal and various herbs. 

“What’s in it?” he asked.

“Don’t ask. Just drink it.” His thoughts didn’t give anything away, to Pete’s disappointment.

Pete noticed Gerard didn’t think anything he didn’t want Pete to hear. Which was interesting. He was the only one who seemed to be able to do it. 

He looked at Mikey for reassurance. He was about to down a mysterious liquid that his weird demon-obsessed brother had gotten from a magic shop to cure telepathy. 

“Go for it,” Mikey shrugged.

Pete figured, nothing about the situation made sense. But if there was a chance he could get rid of his ‘superpower’ he would take it, gross smells be damned. It was either weird magic potions or smoke his lungs to a crisp by the time he’s twenty so he isn’t doomed to live in total isolation in Greenland.

“Cheers,” he said, before downing as much of the drink as he could before gagging. It tasted absolutely awful. “Is there blood in this?” he choked.

“Not human,” Gerard said.

“Oh my god.” Pete felt a little nauseous. He felt Mikey’s hand rubbing circles on his back. 

“ _He’s gonna puke_.”

“I can still hear Mikey’s thoughts,” Pete said.

“Give it time,” Gerard replied, “And finish your drink.”

“There’s blood,” Pete whined.

“I told you, it isn’t human blood. Keep drinking.”

Reluctantly, Pete complied. He really, really needed this to work. Mostly to finally be free of all the invasive thoughts that had been tormenting his head like weeds, but also so that drinking actual fucking blood wouldn’t be for nothing.

When the jar was empty, there wasn’t much to do but wait and see if it had worked. Gerard assured Pete it would, just give it a few minutes. But minutes felt like hours, and as time ticked away with no results, Pete grew more and more discouraged. He could still hear Gerard’s disjointed thoughts on the practical uses for mind reading, and Mikey repeating the lines “ _Yesterday I got so scared, I shivered like a child, Yesterday, away from you, it froze me deep inside_ ”.

“Gerard, I don’t think it worked,” Pete said.

“You can still hear us?”

“Yeah-” And then, he realized, he couldn’t. He could, and then he couldn’t. The singing and the thinking and the hellish microwave feelings were gone. Gone, gone, gone. Mikey, and his brother, the nieghbors, everyone, were gone. Just like that. There was nothing. And his head felt clearer than it had in what must have been forever. Like before. For the first time in weeks, Pete was completely alone in his own head. “No. No! I can’t hear you!”

“You can’t?” Mikey asked excitedly.

“I can’t!” Pete cheered.

“I told you it’d work,” Gerard said.

“I love you,” Pete said, “You’re a saint and I love you, Gerard Way.”

“I accept thanks in small bills.”

“The fuck you do,” said Mikey, “You’re not charging Pete for this.”

Gerard shrugged. He left the room, telling the boys to celebrate. The specific words he used were “above the covers”.

When he was gone, Mikey asked, “How does it feel?”

“Amazing. Like all this pressure’s gone from my head. And I had no clue the world was so quiet!” Pete mused.

“Welcome back to the land of the sane,” Mikey joked.

“Thank you,” Pete said earnestly, “For helping out.”

“It was nothing. Gerard did all the work,” Mikey said.

“No, you helped. You gave me my first cigarette-”

“Probably not something to thank me for.”

“-No, it really helped keep me sane. And you got your brother and his weird magic knowledge to help me. Even if I had to drink blood-which was totally gross by the way. You’ve just been real cool. You’re totally awesome, Mikeyway,” Pete said.

“It was nothing.”

“Not to me.”

Pete kissed Mikey. They had kissed three times. They were all short but Pete was excited by every one. He really liked Mikey. He had to hand it to his former telepathy-it had really come in clutch when he was getting to know Mikey. He was thankful for that. He liked knowing Mikey. Especially if knowing Mikey also meant kissing Mikey. But having it gone gone was a world of incredible. He was perfectly okay just talking out loud with Mikey like normal people, without needing to read his mind to know what he wanted.

A month had passed since Pete was cured of his mind reading powers. It was the quietest month of Pete’s life, and the first time he had ever really appreciated silence. He had always been loud (see: won senior superlative for ‘most talkative’ as a freshman). It was weird being in such a hushed world, but it felt alright. No more microwave head. He couldn’t complain.

He still wasn’t totally sure what had happened. If it was real. His friends all seemed to think it was, but it felt like looking back on a dream. Gerard said it was dumb luck. It seemed right for Pete. Plenty of shitty things happened to him out of dumb luck. The telepathy had actually been one of the more easily resolved problems. Only took a jar of blood and who knows what else. Whatever weird curse he had had to live through, was over though. 

Joe was disappointed at the loss of his most valuable insight into what teenage girls thought. Andy and Patrick seemed much more relieved. Patrick, being the shy kid he was, had especially hated having Pete in his brain. It was good to have his friend back to normal and not all tensed up around him. It was good to eat in the cafeteria every lunch and spend time in large groups of people. He could go to concerts, and parties, and football games again. It was good to just have a clear, still head all to himself. 

It was really good dating Mikey.

Dating Mikey was like the exact opposite of reading minds. He was reserved and unexpressive. He never told Pete what he was thinking. Everything he said, he said quickly and precisely. Pete loved it. He could still tell exactly what Mikey felt, he didn’t need a word by word play through. He picked up on little ticks and quirks. It was way more fun than mind reading anyway, like a puzzle, and didn’t come with any headaches in return.

He laid on Mikey’s bed, draped lazily over his boyfriend’s chest. They had gone out the night before to watch one of Frank’s bands perform. It had been a good show. Loud. In a good way. Just on the outside. Nothing like sticking your head in a microwave. There were lots of people, and Pete couldn’t tell what a single one of them had on their minds. That spot inside his skull was all his again. Every now and then, he appreciated that.

“What’re ya thinkin?” Mikey asked him.  
“Absolutely nothing.”

“Can you tell what I’m thinkin?”

“No.”

“Do you ever miss being able to do it?” Mikey asked.

“Fuck no,” Pete said.

“You don’t ever wish you could tell what I’m thinking?” he continued.

“Nope,” Pete said, “I like figuring it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> it's kinda crazy to me how dead pete/mikey is compared to when i was younger. i stopped listening to both bands for a few years cause i wanted to be 'straight' (idk middle school internalized homophobia) so it's weird how different it is. but it's a comfort thing now so i'm doing this :~)


End file.
